


Yule Punch

by octopus_fool



Series: Yuletide Cheer [22]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mistletoe, Traditions, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: When Dáin establishes diplomatic relationships between Erebor and the orcs, Dwalin gains an unwelcome admirer.





	Yule Punch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 16 of [Arda Advent](http://ardaprompts.tumblr.com/post/180626386876/join-me-in-creating-wintery-fanworks-about), the prompt was "Christmas punch".

On some days, Dwalin hated Dáin. Usually, he was a sensible king and knew what was good for the kingdom. He had even managed to make peace with the orcs and start trade and diplomatic relations with them. 

Except that now, Dwalin had a starry-eyed orc following him around. A very persistent one at that. When Dwalin sat down to eat breakfast in the mornings, his eyes still bleary and his brain barely conscious, it only took seconds before Ushnarz slid onto the seat next to Dwalin.

“Good morning!” Ushnarz chirped.

Now, Dwalin tried to be open-minded and accepting, but there was still something deeply disturbing about an orc _chirping_. Orcs just should not chirp.

“Did you sleep well?” Ushnarz continued, fluttering his eyelashes at Dwalin.

“Hm,” Dwalin grunted. “Still asleep.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! You are so good at sleeping!”

Dwalin had heard better compliments in his life. He also desperately wished he was good enough at sleeping to sleep through this. 

 

Ushnarz apparently knew he needed to work on giving compliments, for he left no opportunity to compliment Dwalin unused.

“You are the biggest and strongest warrior I’ve ever seen,” Ushnarz simpered. “Your voice is as deep as the roots of the mountains.”

Dwalin rubbed his neck awkwardly. He desperately wished he knew what to say, but he couldn’t simply return the compliment. Ushnarz was a bit of a runt.

“I think you are the kindest orc I’ve ever met,” Dwalin muttered, desperately hoping that saying that wasn’t offensive.

 

“I got you a rose,” Ushnarz murmured in what Dwalin could only hope was not supposed to be a seductive manner. “A blood-red one, almost the color of fresh livers.”

Dáin insisted all dwarves were to do their very best to promote the friendship between orcs and dwarves. Dwalin took the rose, not knowing what else to do. “Thank you.”

Dwalin was rather relieved to find that Ushnarz had only compared the rose to blood and livers. There were no red stains on Dwalin’s fingers when he put the rose into the vase he had borrowed from Balin’s daughter. 

 

Even though Dwalin would never admit it, he was rather fond of Yuletide and the time leading up to it. The sweets, the feasts, the lights and decorations, the gifts and songs were all an enjoyable change to the everyday life of the rest of the year. 

Usually. Dwalin was rather less thrilled about being woken by Yuletide songs being sung in front of his door early in the morning. Loudly. And completely out of tune. 

By the second morning, Dwalin knew there was no time in the year that was worse than Yuletide. 

“Did you enjoy my songs?” Ushnarz asked cheerfully.

Dwalin grunted something non-committal. He was much too old for this. 

 

Dwalin had never noticed how many mistletoes the dwarves hung in Erebor at Yuletide. And some idiot had told Ushnarz about _that_ tradition. Dwalin really wanted to strangle that someone. Or, even better, have that person deal with Ushnarz showing up under every single mistletoe, puckering his lips and winking. 

Dwalin had never considered himself an aesthete. He liked a good beard and perhaps a certain degree of symmetry was nice, but negotiable. His standards were not high, but just the thought of stepping through a door at the wrong moment made him shudder. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the pointy ears, which were decidedly too elf-like, or the eyes that managed to be small and protruding at the same time. Maybe the slit-like nostrils made him shudder, or the boils on the face. Perhaps he was also a little afraid of what those sharp teeth might do to his lips. 

But no matter if it was one of those things or all of them taken together, walking through doors had suddenly become a terrifying challenge. It took a lot of concentration, but Dwalin made it. He managed to never step under a mistletoe under which Ushnarz was lurking.

 

And then Yule Eve happened. Dwalin was standing in the Great Hall as the countdown started. He really shouldn’t have been surprised when Ushnarz suddenly appeared next to him.

“I’m so excited, aren’t you excited too?” Ushnarz beamed.

“What is there to be excited about?” Dwalin asked warily.

_“Ten, nine, eight…”_

“Yule Eve! We have a tradition that Yule should be rung in with a kiss,” Ushnarz said, smiling.

_“Six, five, four…”_

Dwalin panicked. “We dwarves have a different tradition. Have you ever heard of Yule punch?”

_“Three…”_

“No?”

_“Two…”_

Dwalin pulled back his fist.

_“One…”_

He looked at Ushnarz’s happy, excited face. As annoying as the orc was, Dwalin couldn’t do this.

_“Happy Yule!”_

Dwalin bopped Ushnarz on his head gently. “See, that’s a Yule punch. That’s an old tradition in my family. Happy Yule!”

Ushnarz reached up to bop Dwalin on his head too. “This is fun! Happy Yule to you too!”

And while Dwalin knew that he would never get rid of Ushnarz this way, he did finally feel a little of that Yuletide glow coming in.


End file.
